


Can I-Game

by arlenejp



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Drinking, M/M, suggestion of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-10-31 08:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10895745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arlenejp/pseuds/arlenejp
Summary: Can I Game. John and Sherlock have too much to drink and begin a game.





	Can I-Game

**Author's Note:**

> A fun little fic,

We've just walked in the door, bone tired. It's been months chasing down this latest killer, and finally, it's over. And we have time to think.

* * *

I see Sherlock take his coat off and plop in his chair.

          "Do you want tea?" I ask as I automatically pick up the pot.

          "I think this calls for something better. Bring out the wine from the cabinet and two glasses."

Surprised, I look out into the living room.

          "Are you sure?"

He gives me his 'didn't you hear me' look. Sherlock does not drink.

Two wine glasses and a bottle of wine come out, and I pop the cork, pour the liquid into the glasses.

I hand him his wine, and he says," To a job well done, and to you, Dr. John Watson for all your help."

          "And to you Sherlock Holmes for your brilliant mind."

And we raise our glasses, clink, and drink.

* * *

I sit opposite Sherlock in my chair. It's spring, and there is no need for a fire in the fireplace between us. 

* * *

          "Doctor Watson, tell me some trivial news of the day. I find I need what you people call small talk."

          "Let's see, the head nurse at Barts just found her husband with a man, in their bed. She's not sure what to do."

At which I get 'the look' from him.

          " Yes, Sherlock, she asked me what to do about it."

          "And what advice did you give the woman?"

          "To divorce him. Let each of them find happiness with another."

          "Were you shocked by it?"

Sherlock had finished his first glass and was pouring a second and topped mine off. He was imbibing at a quicker rate than usual.

          "No, nowadays it's not shocking. I find it fascinating how now men and women can be what they want. That we can swing either way or even in the middle."

Trying to see where this conversation would lead, I ask my partner a leading question.

          "What about you Sherlock, do you find it strange?"

          " I have not given any thought to sex John. My work is all to me."

          "Oh come on now," I sneeringly say, pouring another drink for me and filling up Sherlock's glass.

          "Surely you think about it once in a while?"

I get up and head to the kitchen to get another bottle of the same wine. It looks like a two bottle night. But why Sherlock is drinking so much like this is beyond me!

          " Yes, you know I do. I'm sure you hear me wanking sometimes. But it's more to remove my body out of my work than to have pleasure."

With that, I snort and reply, "Yea right."

* * *

I realize that I've gone through enough glasses of wine in a very short time to make me feel slightly dizzy but very relaxed. 

I'm watching Sherlock and see he feels the same. It isn't often that the great detective loses some control of himself.

Looking over at him I think this is one of the times. No, I know it is.

* * *

'Okay, John', to myself. Let's see if we can push him a wee bit.

* * *

          "Sherlock, would you like to play a game?" I slur my words slightly.

          "Yep, what kind of game?"

          "It's like truth or dare. It's called 'can I.' We each get to ask something about each other that starts with can I. For instance, Can I move my chair closer to you to see you better? You can answer any way you want."

          "Yes to the game and yes you can move your chair closer." 

I stand up, push the chair and sit. We are now touching knees.

* * *

          "My turn?" and I nod yes, although not sure whether I nodded or my face flopped onto my chest.

He has an empty glass and keeps staring at it.

          "Can I have room in your closet to put more of my clothes?"

I laugh, no more of a giggle.

          "Yes, you can. But not all of the closet. You tried that last winter, remember?." I get up, wobbly, and move the wine bottle because we both have had enough.

* * *

I want to see where this is leading, and right now we are tipsy enough to loosen both of us.

          "Hey!" Sherlock says loudly, watching me move the wine. 

          "Sherlock I don't want us to fall flat on our faces and regret the morning."

* * *

          "Doesn't matter. I'm sloshed as it is."

          "Your turn, John," almost spilling the drink out of his glass when he waves his arm towards me.

I sit back down and lean forward to peer closer, my knees in contact with his.

          "Can I ask if you ever had a sexual encounter before?"

          "Yes, a long time ago."

* * *

I'm hoping he'll go further with it but that's all the answer I get.

I lean back in my chair and wait for Sherlock with his 'I can'.

* * *

          "Can I ask how old you were when you had your first sexual encounter?"

          "Sherlock, this doesn't have to be only about sex, if you don't want it to be that."

His head lolls to the side, and I catch a sloppy grin on his face.

          "I asked a can I question. Are you going to answer it or not?"

          "If you mean the first kiss, I was ten years old, and it was at a birthday party. I asked the birthday girl if I could, and we did. It was in her garden, and her parents were in the house."

,p>          "I did say sexual encounter, not kissing encounter."  
I ignore that remark.

* * *

Sherlock's eyes bore into me. He is trying for something, but what.

          "Sherlock, Can I ask when you kissed a girl?"

Sherlock sighs and replies, "I was fourteen, and she was in her thirties."

My eyebrows must have jumped a million miles up. Was Sherlock shagged by an older woman? I had no doubt that he was not talking about just kissing.

Giggling from this knowledge and the wine I wait for more.

          "No John, you are not getting details. My turn. Can I ask-?"

The hesitation is palpable. Sherlock spreads his legs wide, my legs now inside his thighs, touching his inner thighs, and leans far into me.

          "Can I ask if ....you ever had sex with a man?"

I choke. He's peering at me with those intense blue-green eyes, almost as if he was sober.

My turn to hesitate, to decide whether to let the truth out or not.

          "Yes, a brief affair when I was in the army. He was above me in rank, and we cut it off because he was afraid someone would catch us."

Sherlock leans back in his seat, his hands steepled in front of him.

* * *

My head is spinning, and it's getting hard to think. But something about the way this game is turning has me realizing this conversation had been on Sherlock's mind for awhile. I'm glad we're doing this, whatever it turns out to be.

* * *

          "Can I ask if you, Sherlock, have ever had sex with a man?"

          "Yes." 

He stops and turns his head away from me.

          "Care to elaborate Sherlock?"

          "That is not a can I question. And don't go further on it."

* * *

Different strategy is needed.

* * *

I stand up, no, stagger up, go back to get the wine bottle and pour another glass for myself.

I want to phrase this next question right. Need to find out something. It is time.

* * *

Sherlock looks up at me and hands me his glass. He understands that this is going to a place unlike any discussion we have had.

          "Can I ask if you would mind my holding your hand," as I sit back down in the chair, a bit wobbly, maybe not so much from the drink as the question.

          "You have taken my hand on many occasions, John. What's the difference now."

          "I asked a can I."

Sherlock bends into me and takes my hand. I tentatively hold it, and my thumb caresses his palm. He gives an audible gasp.

          " John, can I" and he visibly shakes himself,"rub your thigh."

Shit! What do I do now? John Watson, you've asked for this. And now it's begun you need to continue.

* * *

I take his hand, placing it on my thigh and again with a shiver, he lets it sit there, not moving.

I look down at his hand, place my hand on top of it, and with the knowledge that this could be the end of everything I push it up right next to the bulge in my trousers. Not on, but next to it. He cannot fail to see it. And he doesn't jump away.

Both of us sit there, not moving, but our breaths are elevated.

* * *

          "John? Your turn"

Now! It's now or never! My mouth twitches. Afraid!

          "Sherlock Holmes, Can I kiss you?"

Sherlock looks deep into my eyes, he swallows, without answering gets down on his knees, gently taking my face in both hands, kisses me.

At first just a brush of lips, then crushing his lips to mine. His tongue feels for my lips, parts them and thrusts into my mouth. I respond with my tongue, my lips, my mind.He lets go of me, His face lit up, mine feels flushed.

Still kneeling, he growls low in his throat.

          "Can I, can I, oh John I feel unwell." 

Rushing to the kitchen sink, I run in and hold his head while he vomits.

Sigh, I knew this was too much drink for him!

Ah well, I did get to kiss him. I help him to his bed, and he collapses while dressed. Covering him, I leave for my bedroom.

* * *

The next morning I'm up late after calling the clinic and that I'll be in during the afternoon.

After showering and dressing, I walk into the sitting room not sure what will be.

Sherlock is peering into his microscope and doesn't appear the worst for last night.

          "How are you feeling Sherlock?"

          "Ugh!"

          "Do you want breakfast or just tea?"

          "Tea", never taking his eyes out of the microscope.

          "Sherlock-?"

          "John, don't talk, no discussion."Now what? I want to kiss him again. Can I get away with it? Do I want even to try while he is sober?

* * *

At the clinic that afternoon, I can't keep my mind on any of my patients. I keep looking at the clock. I want to get home to see what Sherlock is doing and how he's feeling.

* * *

Unfortunately, I have two last minute patients and don't leave until after eight pm. I decide to catch a cab instead of the tube.

* * *

Something tells me, some intuition, that Sherlock needs me.

* * *

Sure enough, I walk in the door and Sherlock is splayed out on the sofa, but it's the way he is that has me concerned.

He's like a rag doll with all his movements floppy.

          "Sherlock Holmes, are you on drugs now?"

          "Hmm," as his head comes up unsteady, his eyes out of focus.

          "No, John Watson, I had some of that wine," his voice garbled.

          "Why?"

I see the two bottles on the table with two glasses.

One of the bottles obviously empty.

          "I didn't know we had that much liquor in the house."

          "We didn't. I went out and bought more."

          "Join me, John."

He gets up and reaches for the bottle.

          "I'll join you, but get up and sit in your chair. It'll be much easier to lift you out of it later rather than the sofa."

I take the bottle, and glasses over to the small table and perch on the arm of my chair. The two chairs are still very close to each other from last night.

          "Now, what do I owe the pleasure of a tipsy Sherlock?"

          " I want to continue our game. You know, the I Can from last night."

Hell, that's unexpected!

* * *

Pulling air into my lungs I take a big slug of wine, and then another.

Sherlock looks overcome with emotion. Whether that's the drink or not I can't tell.

          " Wait until I catch up with you, and then we'll start." 

I kill another glass, and the room spins and that's when I decide we need at least one almost sober person here.

          "Okay, Sherlock, who goes first and is there limits on what the can I is about?"

          "No limits. All questions are allowed. Answering them is a different story. I want to begin."He grimaces, closes the gap between us, so our bodies are no more than a foot away.

          "Can I ask for a kiss? A light one, this time?" Off of the arm of the chair, kneeling on the floor, tenderly placing my hand around his neck, I pull him to me, kiss him. 

He responds in kind. I draw away to see him. It looks like he wants more, but I won't push the boundaries unless he specifically asks.

I sit back in the chair.  
          "Sherlock, can I ask if you had sex with that older woman you mentioned last night?"

A small smirk comes over Sherlock. Like a good memory not forgotten.

          "Yes, it was good, my first time, but for her, it was even more memorable. She enjoyed it so much. Reliving her youth she called it."

I bite back my next question.

          "John, can I ask if you enjoyed your encounter with the man? And was that the only time?"

          "Ah Sherlock, that's two questions. I'll answer the first. Yes, I did. He apparently had done this before and was very gentle with me."

          "More wine?" Sherlock asks, reaching for the bottle, which I push out of his reach.

          "No, I'm fine for now."

* * *

Here comes the all-important one. The one I've been holding back on.  
        "Sherlock, can I ask if you would ever think of sex with a man?"

A lopsided grin from him.

He sighs.

          "Yes, yes. Here's the answer you've been groping for. I have had sex with a man."

          "So we're on the same page," I say, clapping my hand over my mouth as I realize what words have come out.  
          "Damn John!"

          "What?"

          "No John, it's my turn."

With a half smile, eyes turned up to the ceiling, a whisper barely given out.

          " Can I ask if you want to have sex with me?"

His eyes turn to mine peering deeply. Those hazel-green eyes that see all. All but my love for him.  
          "Sherlock, we are both too drunk for this question to be answered."

          "John, I am asking again. Do you want to have sex with me?"

          " Oh, fuck do I? Yes, yes."

          "Think long on this John. On how you'll feel in the morning when we're both sober."

          "Sherlock Holmes, I don't have to think. I've been thinking about this for a long, long time. What about you?"

          "Would I have asked if I didn't want it?"

          "One more 'can I' question Sherlock. Do you love me? Because I love you, you strange man."

Sherlock stands up, pulls me up with both hands and with no hesitation, his lips come to mine.

          "Doctor John Watson, I love you now and forever."


End file.
